


Maladaptations

by Carbonpixel



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Earth adventures, Future Fic, Gen, Or Is It?, Slice of Life, ZADF, adult!Dib, adult!Gaz, lots of snacking, more tags to come as they become relevant, rating may change in the future, set after the series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2018-10-07 11:17:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10359243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carbonpixel/pseuds/Carbonpixel
Summary: Childhood friends become fond memories. Childhood enemies become reluctant associates.





	1. Friends Like These

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place more than a decade after the events of the series, in a continuity where Dib and Zim grow to tolerate each other over the years.

“Okay, there’s fries and chicken wings. The fries are in the box on top.” 

Dib mumbled to himself as he ascended the stairs to his apartment door, holding two takeout boxes securely between his hands. He intended to deliver the food to the inside of his apartment, rather than to the grody carpeting that lined the building’s hallways. Dib stuck his tongue out as he concentrated on climbing steps and balancing weighted Styrofoam containers at the same time.

A familiar, grating voice met Dib as he unlocked his apartment door. “You’re late.”

Dib kicked the door closed behind him and turned on the lights, revealing a green, child-sized figure sitting cross-legged on Dib’s bed. Zim glared as Dib entered the room, hints of magenta glittering behind the whites of his contact lenses. “What took you? Where were you? What do you have with you? I want it!”

Dib sauntered over to his computer desk and casually tossed the first box onto his bed. “The fries are for you,” he said, settling into his rolling desk chair and popping open the second box. “You’re welcome.”

“Zim has no need to thank you!” Zim shot back. “You should thank me!” He tore a fry in two to emphasize his point.

Dib swiveled to face his bed, only a few feet from his desk. He propped one foot on the bed frame for stability. “Thank you? For what?”

“For not destroying—your pathetic planet—after waiting so long—for these fries.” Zim shoveled fries into his mouth as he spoke. “How about _that?”_

“I told you,” Dib replied, as he bit into a chicken wing, “I work during the day.”

“Yes, ‘work,’” Zim said, placing air-quotes around the second word. “And what exactly do you do when you ‘work?’ Tell other humans how hideous they are? Tell other humans how hideous _you_ are? Answer me!” Zim pointed an accusatory fry at Dib’s face from his position on the bed. The fry almost touched Dib’s nose.

Dib rolled his eyes. “Zim. You know I work for a paranormal magazine.”

“Mhm. Which means?”

Dib dropped an unwanted chicken bone into the takeout box on his desk. “We’ve been _over_ this,” he stated, throwing his head back in exasperation. “People send in stuff about whatever paranormal thing they’re chasing, and I put it together into reports for the magazine.”

“Mm, that’s nice,” Zim said quickly, intently gathering the remaining fries into one corner of the box. “Whatever.”

Dib sighed and closed his takeout box. “Are you done yet?”

“Silence! I’m concentrating.”

Dib watched as Zim used the Styrofoam box to funnel the residual bits of fries down his throat. When he finished, Zim chucked the box onto the floor and wiped his gloves on Dib’s bedspread. “Now I’m done.”

Dib scoffed at the garbage that was now on his floor. “Ugh, come on, Zim. You could at least—“

“No more! I am done with you!” Zim shouted. He pushed himself off of Dib’s bed and headed toward the door. “And don’t think about following me, pathetic human!” He slammed the door on his way out.

Dib exhaled and stared at the unwanted fry-box in the middle of his floor. Was it worth picking up, or could he leave it there without attracting ants?

He looked up from his thoughts when he heard aggressive knocking at his door. “I told you,” he called out, standing and moving to answer the door, “I don’t want to buy any—“

Zim stood outside his apartment, antennas pushing up against his wig. “I forgot something,” he said, maneuvering through Dib’s legs to enter the one-room apartment. Zim hiked himself onto the bed and dug through the covers until he retrieved a small rectangular remote with one round button in the center of its top plane. He laughed in triumph as he held the remote above his head. “Found it! Victory for Zim!”

He descended to the floor one foot at a time and wove through Dib’s legs to reenter the hallway. “I need this for my next plan,” he said matter-of-factly, walking down the hallway toward the staircase. “Until we meet again, Dib-worm.”

Dib closed and locked his door, and turned to survey his apartment. The window above his bed lay ajar, letting a breeze into the room. Zim had forgotten to close it after breaking in, again. He let out a hum and padded over to his bed. He knew there was no plan, that Zim had not had a plan in years. He knew that he and Zim would “meet again” fairly soon, if not in hours, if not somewhat voluntarily. 

Dib placed his glasses on the bedside table and fell onto his bed face-first. He resolved to get some sleep before anything else happened that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Zim have a plan? Is it evil, or just irritating? And just how does Dib navigate adulthood? These answers and more in later chapters.


	2. A Degree of Reciprocity

Dib jolted awake at the sound of violent tremors.

He jerked upright, heart pounding and eyes darting around the room. He found his apartment as he had left it the night before, now vaguely glowing in mid-morning light. The window over his bed, still open, let the sounds of the street below into the cramped space. A glance to his left revealed the source of the startling buzzing: Dib’s cell phone, vibrating on the nightstand.

Dib steadied himself and reached for his phone, picking it up just as it finished vibrating. A message on his lock screen read that he had missed one call. Before he could investigate, his phone sprang to life again, rumbling against his palm.

Without thinking, Dib tapped the ‘answer’ button on his screen. “Hello?” he asked, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Where were you last night?”

Dib sighed in relief. He recognized the voice. “Oh, hi, Gaz. Good morning.”

“I’ll repeat. Where were you last night?” Gaz sounded like she was hissing through her teeth.

Dib yawned and rubbed an eye with the heel of his free hand. “Last night? I left work, got food, and went to bed. Why?”

Gaz paused, emanating disapproval through the phone network. “Did you forget again?”

“Forget what?”

“Idiot. Dad sent the good videoconferencing drone and everything.”

Dib’s eyes widened. “I missed the family meeting again, didn’t I.” When his children had moved into their own homes, Professor Membrane had insisted on meeting monthly, as a family, to maintain the appearance of enjoying each other’s company. Though the Professor never attended in person, Dib and Gaz were expected to do so.

Dib cradled his eyes in his free hand. “Oh man, Gaz, I am so sorry,” he said. “Zim was texting me at work about being at my place and wanting food, and by the time I got off work all I could think about was getting food to shut him up—“

“Save it, Dib. I don’t care. But I do need to talk to you.”

“Yeah? About what?”

“I can’t tell you,” Gaz said. “Not on the phone. We need to meet in person.”

Dib snatched his glasses from the nightstand and pushed them into place, furrowing his eyebrows as he registered Gaz’s request. “When would you want to meet?”

“Today. The sooner, the better.”

He sighed. “I can’t do today. Or, actually—I could do later today, around three.”

“Why not earlier? Do you have plans or something?” Gaz’s contempt carried through her tone.

Dib sighed again, more heavily. “I have to check on Zim after last night. He’s not usually that needy, you know? Also, he had this stupid little remote-thing that he claimed was for a plan—“

“He doesn’t have a plan, Dib.”

“I know, but I still have to check.”

Another pause. “Fine,” Gaz assented. “I don’t care. Meet me at the old arcade at three today. Don’t be late.”

* * *

Dib stood on the sidewalk just outside of Zim’s property and craned his neck to peer over the wooden fence. The lawn, while unkempt, had not yet taken on the characteristics of forest underbrush, and the various lawn ornaments boasted bold colors unfaded by the sun. The gnomes, in particular, shone with fresh coats of paint.

Dib darted down the sidewalk and up to Zim’s front door, following a familiar serpentine path meant to evade Zim’s defense systems. He smirked to himself as the sound of laser fire filled the yard behind him. Dib counted every inaccurate shot as a small personal victory.

He knocked on the door with a balled fist. “Zim! Open up!” he called out. “Zim! Zim! Zi—“

The door swung away from Dib’s knocking, and a disguised Zim glared up at Dib from across the threshold. Save for the bags under his eyes, Zim appeared healthy.

“Hey, you finally fixed the lawn gnomes!” Dib chirped, placing a hand on the door and pushing it open further. “They weren’t working the last time I came around.”

Zim held the door steady against Dib’s advances. “There is nothing for you here, Dib,” he said tersely. “Go away.”

“No—it’s no—problem,” Dib insisted, forcing the door open by leaning into his arm. “I stashed some snacks behind your couch the last time I was here.” He stepped over Zim’s outstretched arm and entered the house.

Zim inhaled and closed the door with a soft ‘click.’ “What do you want, Dib?” he asked, facing away from the living room.

Dib retrieved a bag of potato chips wedged behind the couch and dropped himself onto Zim’s floor, sitting across from the TV. “Just my snacks,” he said, shaking the bag in Zim’s direction. “Want some?”

“I would not deign to allow that inedible Earth filth near my person, Dib-human.” Zim’s shoulders tensed as he turned to face Dib. “The mere scent makes me shudder in repulsion.”

Dib shrugged as he pulled the top of the closed bag apart. “Suit yourself. You were eating fries yesterday.”

“Silence!” Zim shouted, shaking a fist with one hand and pointing at Dib with the other. He stomped closer to Dib as he spoke. “Those fries are a marvel of engineering! Somehow, a few smelly stink-monkeys developed a type of disgusting Earth-food that’s completely edible!” Zim shrugged. “Eh, I guess that’s one thing your garbage planet has going for it.”

“Yeah, you think?”

“Watch your tone. This is my house.”

Dib rolled his eyes and began eating. He looked around the room and noted small discrepancies in Zim’s house from his previous visit—a crumpled wrapper here, a misplaced flyer there. Nothing to suggest any abnormal foul play—except for the pile of robot parts tucked in the far corner of the living room.

From his position on the floor, Dib identified some of the objects in the pile: Irken versions of nuts and bolts, various circuit boards, the remnants of metal joints and appendages. Other objects in the pile eluded him; though they appeared similar to technology originating from Earth, they did not resemble anything Dib had ever seen readily available to consumers.

Dib’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been building robots again?” he asked, voice pitched higher in suspicion.

Zim laughed and gestured dismissively in Dib’s direction. “Oh, that’s nothing. Just some trash that GIR forgot to take out.”

Dib shifted his gaze to Zim. “Your dog robot? Where is he?”

“Never mind GIR,” Zim said, springing forward to close the gap between them. “Well, this has been a horrible visit, but you really must be going now. Go. Shoo.” Zim landed a swift kick in Dib’s side as punctuation.

Dib dropped the bag of chips and scrambled to his feet, dodging Zim’s boots as he headed for the door. “Ow. Ow! Okay, okay, I’m going!” Dib said, working to sidestep Zim’s shots at his calves and knees. “You can—hey, stop! I’m going to the door, see?” Dib sprinted to the front door and yanked it open, practically jumping onto Zim’s outside front step. “See? I’m out!”

“You are!” Zim confirmed, holding his front door in one hand. “It was agonizing to see you today. I hope we never do this again.” He slammed the door in Dib’s face.

Dib sighed and checked the time on his phone. If he left Zim’s house immediately, he could arrive at the old arcade with minutes to spare.

Dib repocketed his cell phone and made a beeline across Zim’s yard for the sidewalk. With Gaz, punctuality was everything.


	3. Chance and Circumstance

Dib heard the shrieks of the children inside the arcade before he saw the flickering neon sign indicating that the establishment was, in fact, open. He checked the time on his phone before entering the arcade’s open outer wall. He strode inside exactly one minute early.

Dib wove through the maze of oversized game consoles and flashing LED lights to the very back of the building, where the arcade hid its most obscure and difficult offerings. As usual, he found Gaz terrorizing the various controllers of the 8-bit game in the far corner.

He stood back for a moment, unwilling to risk breaking Gaz’s concentration and incurring her wrath. He waited until she successfully finished her current level before approaching from the side. He leaned on the side of the console, facing Gaz. She didn’t respond, eyes tracking the images on the game screen.

After a beat, Dib cleared his throat.

Gaz’s eyes flicked in his direction before returning to the screen. “So. You decided to show up.”

“Very funny, Gaz. I said I was sorry.”

“Really? All I heard were your weak excuses.”

Dib shifted his weight against the console. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll be at the family meeting next month, I promise.” 

Gaz remained silent.

Dib sighed. “Okay, fine, I might forget about it next month, too. Feel free to remind me, if it’s so important to you that I’m there.”

“Do I look like your keeper, Dib? I don’t, and I’m not.” Gaz’s stare focused as the gameplay picked up, and her hands began pushing and prodding joysticks with renewed verve. “Keep your own appointments. If I have to be there, so do you.” 

“I’m _sorry,_ Gaz. I can’t do anything about it now.” Dib crossed his arms and exhaled. “Didn’t you have something you wanted to talk about?”

Gaz slammed on several of the console’s buttons as her game progressed. “Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Have you heard of any weird technology getting into civilian hands recently?”

Dib raised an eyebrow. “Civilian hands?”

Gaz nodded, maintaining eye contact with the screen. “Like anyone who writes into your stupid magazine.”

“Not that I can think of. Except—“ Dib cut himself off and peered at Gaz suspiciously. “Wait. Why do you care?”

She released the console’s joysticks as the game’s victory theme played in its tinny 8-bit glory. “One of the guys in one of my online campaigns works in security guarding stuff like that. Some of it went missing, and he hasn’t been able to focus in co-op since.” Gaz turned to Dib, an eerie resolve set in the contours of her features. “I need him to focus, Dib. It’s multiplayer.”

Dib steeled himself against the sheer force of Gaz’s determination. He faltered. “Well, um, unfortunately, I can’t say that anyone’s written in to the magazine about swiping any new technology, but I did see a pile of unused robot parts, some of which I couldn’t identify, at Zim’s place today.”

Gaz scowled at the mention of Zim. “Will you give up on all of that? How long has it been?”

“I’m not just saying that, Gaz. I really did see some weird tech stuff at Zim’s.”

Gaz put another quarter into the machine and shook her head. “Fine, whatever,” she said, tapping a button on the console repeatedly. “Just remember: if you’re right and Zim has the missing tech, I will hold you personally responsible until it’s returned.”

Dib cracked a smile at Gaz’s last comment. “Of course. I won’t let you down, Gaz.”

“You say that every time, and every time you disappoint me.” The game’s beeping sound effects punctuated Gaz’s displeasure.

Dib pushed away from the arcade cabinet. “At least I’m consistent. I’ll see you around.”

“Dib, wait,” Gaz said, just as Dib walked past. He stopped and turned to face her. “Don’t be stupid.”

He scoffed amiably. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

“Don’t be stupid about Zim.”

“Oh? Like how?”

Gaz tore her attention away from the game to glare at Dib. “Just don’t be stupid.”

Dib retaliated with his best eye roll before turning away. “Like I said, I’ll do my best.” He left the arcade without looking back, losing himself in the cacophony of recorded sound bites and the cries of children excited about the prospect of attempting to win another simplified video game.

The sun had dipped behind the tallest buildings of the skyline while Dib and Gaz had met, and Dib could only see the last protesting gasps of daylight peeking over the artificial horizon when he stepped back onto the street. He sighed. Another day spent.

He began walking home, moving deliberately along the sidewalk and around other pedestrians. He pulled out his phone and checked his lock screen, relieved to find no messages from Zim waiting for his attention. He could enjoy his evening in peace.

In relative peace, anyway, until he came across a small, shadowed figure screaming into a tablet in an alley on his way back to his apartment.

Dib backed up to conceal himself behind the front wall of one of the brick buildings forming the alley while he eavesdropped. He recognized the speaker’s voice, but could not make out the person on the other end of the video call. 

“No, that wasn’t the deal!” Zim shouted, pointing at the tablet screen. “That’s not—“

The person on the other end of the call said something terse, and Zim pouted. “Fine. Fine! I’ll get you something ‘worthy of your time.’ Don’t be so dramatic.”

The call ended, and Dib listened as Zim grumbled under his breath. “Ungrateful, disgusting little creature. I should have—“ Zim stopped himself when he noticed Dib lounging against the building. “Dib-worm.”

“What’cha up to, Zim?” Dib asked, suddenly very amused.

Zim squinted at Dib. “What are _you_ up to?”

Dib shrugged. “I’m doing reconnaissance. What about you?”

Zim laughed. “As if a lowly worm-baby like you could comprehend the actions of Zim! No, Dib, as far as you’re concerned, I’m doing nothing. Absolutely nothing!”

Dib smirked. “It doesn’t sound like nothing.” He crouched to meet Zim’s eye level. “Come on, you can tell me. I can keep a secret.” He winked and flashed an involuntary smile.

Zim’s eyes widened as he backed away from Dib, waving his arms laterally. “No! None of your repulsive Earth mind games! It’s none of your concern. Go away!” Zim braced his feet against the sidewalk and sprinted in the opposite direction, screaming indistinctly as he turned a corner.

Dib laughed to himself. He considered following Zim, but surmised that his final comment would keep Zim flustered until the morning, at the very least. He continued walking home, a newfound energy beneath his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is pretty late, and I have no excuses except for the axiom "it's never done, it's just due." Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter!


End file.
